Still Here No Matter What

Still Here No Matter What

Terrell Wyatt

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are at risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high-quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities.

While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering, and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into fully illustrated books.

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Still Here No Matter What Terrell Wyatt

Have you ever been ready to give up on yourself but had people in your corner that never gave up on you? People that stood by your side through everything, no matter what?

Well, if you didn’t, I have felt that way before., I felt like my life was just gonna come crashing down on me like it was over. Like I had nobody in my corner. But still there were the loves of my life, my grandma and mother, standing by my side no matter what. It all started with me going to school, being a bad kid, getting in trouble by the time I was in 4th grade. Constantly, it’s sad to say, but I was exposed to the street life at a young age. I seen my older cousins heavy in the streets, so I wanted to know what the street life was like. My Mom and Granny told me that the streets were no good. They always advised me to stay in school, be positive and try my best to be successful in LIFE. When they gave me the good advice that I needed, I always said, “OK,” to them like I took heed to the advice that they were giving. But in my mind, deep down inside, I had my mind made up, constantly telling myself that the streets is cool, the streets is what’s best for me and I’m going to be a part of the streets no matter what.

I thought I knew it all, had everything figured out. But in reality, at a young age, I didn’t know anything, not even half of what I thought I knew. Constantly having my mother and grandmother call off of work just so they can come to the school to meet the principal due to my behavior. Joseph Lovett was fed up with my behavior and told me that I no longer could go there anymore. I was being expelled. I’ll never forget this day because it was one of the most terrible days of my LIFE. I made my mother cry, and to this day, I still feel some type of way about that.

On this day of being expelled from school, no longer being able to go back, the principal called and told my mom she needed to come pick me and my younger brother up ASAP. We both were being out of control at school, disobeying the teachers and running the halls. My younger brother was two grades lower than me.

I remember sitting in the principal’s office waiting on my mother to arrive to pick us up. Me sitting in one chair, my brother sitting in the other one that was next to me. Both of us just sitting there, mad like the school was just picking on us and we didn’t do anything. Basically blaming them for the bad way that we was behaving. We were young, stuck in our ways and couldn’t take responsibility for our own actions. In reality, the school never did anything to us but try to help us, constantly giving us chance after chance to make things right and do better.

So, my mother finally walked in and the look on her face was full of embarrassment, sadness, and tiredness-- tired of going through the same thing with me and my brother at this school. She asked us what was going on and why we was misbehaving. As usual, we both lied and tried to point fingers to everyone else but ourselves. My mom knew better though. If anyone knew her sons, it would be her, so she said, “Stop lying. Ain’t nobody just picking on yall two out of everybody in the school to blame yall for things yall didn’t do.”

We just sat there like we were mad because she was believing what the principal was saying over her own two sons. Finally, after her and the principal was done talking, the three of us were on our way to my mom’s car.

It was very silent because neither of us were talking at the time. It was a chilly day as far as the weather, so all you heard was the wind blowing. Once we made it to the car, I got in the front and my lil brother got in the back because we usually took turns sitting in the front. It just so happened on that specific day that it was my turn to sit in the front. It was as if my mom was holding in what she wanted to say until we were pulling off in the car because at that moment that’s when she started going off on the both of us.

She said, “I don’t know what to do! What’s the problem?! Why can’t yall just go to school and do right?! I don’t understand! I buy yall everything yall want: best clothes, shoes, games! What’s the problem?!” We both sitting there, acting as if we were mad because we were being mistreated. We still tried to put blame on everyone else but ourselves.

By this time, we were driving in full motion on our way to my grandma’s house. Grandma’s house wasn’t too far away from the school, probably about a mile away. Finally, when we made it to granny’s house, me and my brother went straight to the front room to sit down. We were tryna avoid granny as long as possible because we knew she would have some words for us due to the way we were behaving at school. My mother walked to the back where granny was sitting to tell her what was going on. Within 5 minutes, the both of them came walking in the front room where me and my brother were sitting.

Granny was leading while my mom was following behind her. Granny started asking us questions to see what was the problem. “Why are you all acting up? Why can’t yall do right in school?” Basically asking some of the same questions that my mother had always asked. Sticking to the script, me and my brother kept the same mad attitude we had all day and tried to blame others for the things we were doing. We told granny that we felt it was personal because there were other kids misbehaving at the time, but we were the only two that were being kicked out.

Then all of a sudden that’s when my mother started yelling and crying out of nowhere. “I don’t know what to do with you!! I don’t care anymore!! I’m ready to give yall away!!” She said things that she didn’t mean. At the time, to be honest, I didn’t know if she meant it or not. But what I do know is that even at that young of an age, it really crushed me to see my mother like this. It crushed me to know that I was the cause of her crying. But at the time, being young and stubborn, we just sat there. Me and my brother acting as if we really weren’t the cause of bringing tears to our one and only mother’s eyes.

I wish I knew then what I know now because I would have hugged my mother real tight and told her how much I love her.

I’ll never forget my first time in Juvenile IDOC St. Charles. It was the first time I was away from my family for a long period of time. I felt like I was alone. I was there from October 2007 to April 2008. Being in the Juvenile Center was crazy, really wild. A lot of young, dumb MF’s. Everybody tryna prove a point. So any small situation was bound to escalate and turn into something big.

My Mom was coming to see me every weekend. She was concerned about me because it was her first time being away from me, her oldest son. She would come see me, send me money. I had everything I needed to make the best of my time--crossword puzzles, magazines.

I was in the Audy home twice, then the third time they sent me to St. Charles. I was 12 years old and was around people my age. Everyone was trying not to go there.

I got sent to DOC early. I felt like I wasn't supposed to be sent that early. Most kids had many more times at Juvenile before going to DOC.

I felt the Judge was racist. Old white guy. My PO, too. My PO recommended I go down there. I felt like they was giving up on me. Even though I wasn’t doing all the things I should have been doing, I feel like they could have come up with a different situation.

My Mom would visit me every weekend. It showed me she was there. At the time I took it for granted. I was hard headed, I knew it all. I had everything planned. I thought I knew what was best for me.

The whole time my Mom and Grandma were telling me what was best for me, but I didn’t listen.

I made it there October 26 of 2007. Mom was pregnant. She had my little brother on November 15. I remember her bringing him. Seeing my baby brother was the best visit I had while I was away at St. Charles, Lil DOC. Being able to just see him for the first time and hold him meant everything to me. Because at the time I always wanted another younger sibling.

When she visited, I felt good. I had to be tough with other people down there, but when I saw her I was so ready to come home.

I was telling her what I had to deal with down there. Some things were good, some were bad. I was going to school and graduated eighth grade. I was also in a drug program while I was down there. I was telling my Mom about all the things that I was doing, because I wanted her to know I was tryna do something good.

I was glad I got my 8th grade diploma while I was there, because at the rate I was going when I was out, it’s sad to say, but I probably wouldn’t have achieved that goal. I was never going to school when I was out. My Mom would drop me off at school, but I would wait until she pulled off and leave the school right behind her. I used to walk in one door and leave out the other one on my way to the block.

What always hurt me the most was when my visit was over and it was time for my mother to leave. It would really make me sad because I wanted to be going home and be with my family.

At that time, I wasn’t thinking about changing., I just wanted to be home.

Whatever I’m doing, I’m going to do it better. This is the life I chose.

After every visit, all the juveniles were searched, then had to wait for the van that officers used for transportation to drive us back to the cottage that we were assigned to live in. There was only a gate that separated the parking lot for visitors. So I would always try to stall just to give my Mom enough time to make it to the parking lot so I could see her one last time before I had to go back to my cell and lock up.

At that time my Mom had a red Pontiac G6. That would be the only car I would look for. Sometimes I would catch her, then other times I wouldn’t.

I will never forget April 17 of 2008. That was the day I came home.

My Mom and Grandma came to St. Charles.

I wouldn’t sleep the night before. I had to see the parole board in St.Charles gym room.

The parole board on one side of the room, families on the other, inmates on the other.

My Mom and I kept looking at each other and smiling.

Nobody wanted to go in front of the African American woman on the parole board. I didn’t have tickets, but you never know what’s going to happen. I didn’t want to go in front of her.

Guess what happened? I went in front of her. She wasn’t so bad after all. I did everything I needed to do down there, so she ended up paroling me.

My Mom was sitting with me when the lady said she’d parole me. It was one of the best things I ever heard in my life. After being away from my family, I was finally able to come home.

Then my Mom and, Grandma were escorted outside and I was sitting by the door waiting to be processed out. I hugged my Mom and Grandma, got in the car and left.

When I got back, I felt like I was the man. I was older than I was.

It was cool. None of my friends had been down there.

Being one of the first to go down there, I’m back in the streets head first.

At first I was keeping it secret. My mother was giving me the benefit of the doubt, hoping I’d changed. But after a while, she started seeing that I hadn’t changed a bit. I actually was worse. I was doing the same thing. She would try to tell me to do something different. I was staying out late, smoking weed. I didn’t start going to school until the next school year, September 2008.

My little brother was doing the same thing. He was in the Audy home on the way to DOC. My Mom and Grandma were stressed.

They tried to figure out what they did wrong. They did everything. Like any parent, they blamed themselves. At that time, I was the problem.

I went back 4-5 more times to DOC, from St Charles to Lil Joliet. My Mom was still coming to see me. There were times that both of us, my brother and me, were locked up at the same time.

Thirty days after I turned 17, I came to CCDOC. Caught a case. I was going in and out of the juvenile system. Everyone was telling me you won’t want to see County. This is where it’s real.

When I came to CCDOC, my Mom was kind of fed up. She probably wasn’t surprised. She didn’t want me to be here, but she was used to it.

She was disappointed. I felt bad. After being in and out of the juvenile system, I told myself when I make 17, it’s a brand new start. I wanted to keep my record clear.

That plan only lasted 30 days.

I was mad at myself about steady coming back to jail and letting my Mama down. But at the same time, I was letting the streets get the best of me. I was putting that before everything else.

When I’d come home from CCDOC, I’d stay with Grandma. Grandma stayed in the hood where I came from. I was thirsty to be there.

I’ve gotten better with time. Coming back and forth to jail. Being around different personalities that come from different backgrounds. Continuing to live has helped me look at things differently.

In my current situation, it started as one case. My Mom and Grandma got me a lawyer, Then they ended up putting another charge on me.

After that, they got me another lawyer, spent 20K. Made me realize after me coming to jail all these years, taking them through so much, I can always depend on them.

Going through some of the things that I have been through, I’m grateful. It has made me who I’m today. I understood that the things I took them through wasn’t right. They didn’t deserve that. Even though my Mom told me she would give up on me and she didn’t want me anymore, she never did. She’s been here no matter what. I want her to know I’m very thankful for that. It let me know that she always had faith in me even when I wasn’t doing right. Even when I was taking her through hard times, she always stuck by my side and wanted the best for me.

When I come home I have to do something different. Make them proud. My whole life I’ve been taking them through hell. Even if I don’t do it for myself, I feel I owe it to them.

Tyrell Wyatt

"The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.

They make one story become the only story.�

- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

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